


A Coward

by 22Bean22



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood, Bonding, Gore, Guilt, Self-Harm, Yuri, Yuri's mother - Freeform, blame, mother-daughter, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/22Bean22/pseuds/22Bean22
Summary: Why? Why was she like this? The signs had always been there, Yuri had always needed help, but she just hadn’t noticed it. Well, maybe she had, but maybe she didn’t take action because she didn’t want it to be true. If she just left the problem alone, possibly it would just disappear. The worst logic, yet one used by many.





	A Coward

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!
> 
> This fic contains blood and self-harm, so if you are sensitive to these subjects, I suggest skipping out on this one :3

She should’ve seen it coming. Looking back from the present moment, it was so obvious it was painful. Despite the situation, despite how much her daughter would undoubtedly need her in that moment, she just couldn’t do anything. She was hiding, she was running, as she always did. She had run from the man who deserved a rightful justice, and now she was running from her daughter who was desperate for help, whether she knew it or not. 

She was a coward.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuri’s mother had always known that there was something a little off about her child, even from a young age. At the time, it hadn’t seemed that odd, really, it was more a source of pride. 

She would turn up at the daycare centre, a busy day of work resting on her tired shoulders, and would see a familiar purple-head buried in a pile of books. Other children would be watching with interested, yet slightly intimidated faces, whispering amongst themselves at the peculiarity of this child. Even the workers would be shooting looks, or would try to convince Yuri to play with the other kids, only to get ignored or shyed away from. 

However, despite what anyone else said, Yuri’s mother wasn’t concerned about this. It was natural for a child to be drawn to what they love, and if Yuri’s passion was for books instead of people, did that really matter so much? In fact, it was something to be proud of. Yuri would obviously grow up to be an extremely intelligent woman, capable of changing the world. 

This is what Yuri’s mother had thought, until that one day. She had gone to collect Yuri as usual, had driven home in their little blue Ford, and gone to bed. It wasn’t until the next morning when she had received a phone call from the daycare announcing that one of their kitchen knives had gone missing. And it wasn’t any normal, plastic one, it was the sharpest steak-knife the chef was in possession of. And it had gone. 

Later that night, Yuri’s mother had found the knife described, hidden underneath a pile of clothes in Yuri’s room. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next sign was Yuri’s social life. After that incident, Yuri’s mother had made sure to keep a close eye on her daughter, at least, while she could. She had requested shorter working hours, and didn’t leave Yuri in the daycare centre for as long as before, because, although she may have been a little bit misjudgeful in the past, and still new to the experience of raising a child, a mother always trusted herself above all to look after her daughter. 

Unfortunately, all children grow up, and Yuri began going to school. As Yuri was was her first, and only child, Yuri’s mother had researched a few of the basic things that she would need to be prepared for when sending her child off to primary school. 

The two main things were as follows: Social and Homework. Yuri’s mother had immediately crossed ‘Homework’ off of her mental list of worries, as it had always been obvious how much Yuri loved to work, and that definitely wouldn’t be a problem. However… Social. There was a slight difference there. Memories of the lonely girl Yuri had been back at daycare had flashed in the woman’s mind. The website said that there was no reason to worry about one’s child not making friends, as every child became close to someone in their early years, so Yuri’s mother had pushed that fret to the back of her mind, and prepared for the requests of sleepovers and meet-ups. 

But nobody came. Everyday, Yuri would come home, silently pad to her bedroom, with a timid smile to her mother, and disappear for the evening. 

To try and quell her worries, Yuri’s mother had tried to think of excuses. Maybe Yuri just didn’t like going over to other people’s houses, and didn’t like sharing her own with other people. But… She never even mentioned making any acquaintances during her school-life. 

Did Yuri just… Not have friends?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the rare occasion that Yuri would come into the living room, and retreat from the depths of her own bedroom, she would spend all of that time reading instead of conversing. Yuri’s mother would usually sneak peaks at the book, curious as to what her child was into these days. After all… They hardly talked, and the covers of the books were usually some of the best insights to Yuri’s life that she could hope for. 

Much to her curiosity, Yuri’s reading interests… Matured. They went from simple diary-entry style books, to teen romances, and then onto the kind of books that you wouldn’t want to read at night, the disturbing themes contained inside filling your head in the pitch-blackness of your room. 

Maybe she should’ve said something. Asked how things were going. But she didn’t. 

Because she was a coward.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One night, Yuri had gone about her usual evening routine of going into her room and not coming out for the rest of the night, except, of course, for dinner. Yuri’s mother had resorted in blaming her daughter’s absence on homework, but there had always been something hidden under the surface, something very wrong. Why didn’t she see it? God, why didn’t she see it? 

Late in the evening, after the lights in the house were out, Yuri’s mother lay in her single bed and thought. She had always tried to avoid thinking too much, it got confusing eventually, thoughts would overtake your mind and drowning you in their pressure. But, tonight, she couldn’t help it. 

It was the latest she had ever been up in a while, as work was taking its toll, and usually she would’ve fallen asleep within minutes of collapsing onto her comfortable bed. Maybe she should take the day off tomorrow… There was no doubt she would be exhausted tomorrow. 

And then, she heard the sobbing. Quiet, almost inaudible, but somehow that increased the seriousness. The person making the sounds clearly didn’t want to be heard, she was trying to contain it. Of course, Yuri’s mother immediately knew who that person was. 

The crying continued, filling the miserably silent house with an even more depressing sound. Was this normal? If so, when did it begin? Had it always been present, but Yuri just left her breakdowns until late at night, when she thought nobody would hear? 

Those questions kept pushing, until, eventually, Yuri’s mother had to act. She got out of bed, paced down the hallway, and came to a halt in front of the steady door that blocked the way into Yuri’s room. 

It was dark, as Yuri’s mother stood there, her fist raised and ready to knock. But, what good would knocking do? Yuri wouldn’t let her in by preference, she would have to break in herself if she actually wanted to enter. Yuri wouldn’t let her in. 

Yuri never let her in. 

The fist lowered, and the momentary strength that filled the heart of Yuri’s mother vanished in an instant. Instead, she slowly lowered herself to the carpeted floor, and sat there, back leaning against the forever-closed door. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the wall opposite, her ears becoming numb to her daughter’s sobbing as tears of her own began to slide down her cheeks.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And then, the fateful day, when Yuri’s mother had finally taken action. She was tired from work, and had been tempted to just fall asleep on the couch. 

But, the sound of a door slamming upstairs removed all drowsiness from her body, and her eyes immediately travelled to the stairs. 

Her mind protesting, but her heart determined, she headed up the stairs, and knocked on Yuri’s door. It was finally time to be the mother she never had been. 

The was no answer. 

Another knock. 

….

No answer. 

Taking a deep breath, Yuri’s mother made the first breach of privacy she had ever committed in her entire life. Pulling the door-handle down with clammy hands, she entered her daughter’s room. 

Only then did it occur to her how long it had been since she had set foot in this part of the house, and she was immediately struck by a wave of emotion. 

Posters hung on the wall, books lined the desk, but the thing that caught her eye the most was the photo. Framed neatly, surrounded by well-contained doodles, the picture hung proudly above Yuri’s bed, so it would always be there in her head when she fell asleep.

In the photo, there were four girls. One was Yuri, smiling her typically timid smile, but there was something in her eyes, a spark of joy that Yuri’s mother hadn’t seen in its rightful place for so long. Yuri was bending down slightly so that she could wrap an arm around the smallest girl in the picture, who had bright pink hair tied into a pair of neat pig-tails, and a quirky little smile that showed off one of her teeth. The two other girls wore matching smiles of cheerfulness, eyes bright, posture straight. 

So beautiful… All of them….

Taking her attention away from the photo and back to Yuri, she finally realised that the room was deserted. Lifeless. 

She turned, and began searching the house. Of course, the most logical place was the bathroom. And, sure enough, the light was on inside, and the door locked. 

“Yuri?” 

No reply. 

There never was a reply. But now she was beginning to think that it was because she didn’t reach out enough herself. This was all her fault. Blaming Yuri for not talking enough, but she had never asked. 

She could hear a sound. Dripping. There was no toilet flush, or running water of the shower or bath. No… An eerie, disturbing dripping. 

“Yuri… I’m coming in…” She fiddled with the lock, reversing the metal that had slid out with a hair-pin. Then, she opened the door. 

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw inside. 

Her daughter, leaning against the sink for support, a knife in her hands. The anonymous dripping from earlier confirmed to be what she had dreaded: blood. Pooling onto the floor, making the tiles slippery with red liquid. The source of the blood was from Yuri’s arms, where messy, ragged cuts criss-crossed against the skin, steady flows of scarlet seeping from the wounds. It was everywhere, the beautiful, indigo strands of hair resting among the horrifying liquid, the colour mixings beginning to stain a ghastly black.

But, despite the gore, the worst thing was Yuri’s expression. A satisfied, yet heart-broken smile painted her once-soft features, deep eyes glazed over with a sick relief. And then, she turned, for the first time taking in the sight of her mother, stood motionless in the doorway. 

The expression disappeared, replaced by that of a scared child, one lost and with nowhere to turn, frightened of everything including herself.

“Wai-” 

But her mother had gone. Run away, into the safety of her room. 

A coward. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuri’s mother didn’t know how long she’d been in there, staring at the bland ceiling, eyes filled with unshed tears. She needed to move, she needed to do something. 

But… She couldn’t. 

Why? Why was she like this? The signs had always been there, Yuri had always needed help, but she just hadn’t noticed it. Well, maybe she had, but maybe she didn’t take action because she didn’t want it to be true. If she just left the problem alone, possibly it would just disappear. The worst logic, yet one used by many. 

She always ran from things. It was the way to deal with life, a more simple way. Usually, running didn’t cost that much. Running from a bad man, it may be a little exhausting, but it wasn’t life-changing. It didn’t matter to her. 

Yuri, however… She was the most important element of her life. She couldn’t run from this. She had to do the thing she had never been capable of doing. She had to make the effort to talk, she had to reach out. 

And so, finally detaching herself from the bed, Yuri’s mother crossed the room and opened her door, ready to face her daughter.


End file.
